


In The Family Way

by GalahadsGurl



Series: The Cahill Project [10]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (TV 2012), Flashpoint, Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011), S.W.A.T. (2003), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Bourne Legacy (2012), The Unusuals
Genre: F/M, Gen, Jeremy Renner's Characters are The Brothers Grimm, Pregnancy, The Cahill Project, family fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:25:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4539744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadsGurl/pseuds/GalahadsGurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well...that wasn't <i>quite</i> how she planned to tell them.  But, if one was a Grimm, when did things ever really go to plan?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Family Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlekWalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlekWalker/gifts).



> Commission for AlekWalker! I hope you enjoy this! 
> 
> Translations at the end, as always.

[](https://imgur.com/pEvnphA)

Normally Marta Grimm loathed having to administer the annual physicals for her beloved family. All of them – every single one – avoided Medical like the plague and she faced an uphill battle just to convince them to give her the time of day when she wore her doctor’s hat. But right now, at this moment, she had never been more appreciative of the job. She gazed in awe at the results of the tests she'd run on the Family Russian, unable to believe the words staring back at her.

She still remembered the day, a little over a year ago, when Will and Marina came to her to express concern over their inability to get pregnant. And she could still picture the look in their eyes when she had to tell them that Marina’s enhancements by the Red Room combined with the genetic alterations to Will’s Cahill DNA meant it would be all but impossible for the couple to conceive. Marta wanted to be wrong; she **yearned** to be wrong for the first time in her life. The two had proven themselves amazing parents to their adopted boys and would have been wonderful with children born of their own flesh and blood. 

At that point, her own nephew Sam already held a firm position as their eldest son. (Rarely a day went by without her sending up a prayer of thanksgiving for the duo. Sam was happier than she could ever remember seeing him and he possessed an easy confidence that no one else could have given him. Will and Marina might not have brought him into the world, but they were the ones who gave him a real life.) In addition to Sam, the family’s Power Couple had adopted Enjolras Rene – and the twelve year old kept them on their toes with his fire and passion. So, while Will and Marina felt an understandable devastation at her news, they found some healing and contentment with the two children life **had** given them.

They’d all been convinced that Sam and Rene were it for Will and Marina. And yet . . . here she was, staring with a growing joy at the results that proved her wrong.

She looked up at the technician. “Did you check the results twice?” she demanded.

“Three times, Dr. Grimm. You said to be thorough,” the young man insisted, ducking his head with a sheepish smile. 

“Thank you, Harry. I appreciate it.”

“You're welcome Dr. Grimm,” he replied with a shrug and a wave before heading out of her lab and back to his own. 

Marta stared at the paperwork for another moment before moving to grab the phone. Marina had returned from Moscow about four days ago without her partner in tow, “Will Brandt” having been disavowed by the IMF. Marta knew the entire situation made Marina want to scream. “Will Brandt” was not IMF at all, but Will Grimm’s sense of duty rivaled his partner’s own. Come hell or high water, he would see the assignment through despite his own personal opinion on the job because **that** was who William Michael Grimm was.

The situation being what it was . . . Well, Marta figured some happy news would improve the Russian’s mood – exponentially.

****************

Marina Ivanovna Petrovka might not have been a beautiful woman in the classical sense – unless you asked her partner, but Will’s testimony came colored with an admitted bias – but she exuded power and authority as easily as she took breath. A plain sort of pretty, she gave love and loyalty to her chosen family with all the fierce power of a denning mother bear. It was these characteristics that drew people into her sphere. Those she called her Misfits returned her love with their own deep devotion and would go to the ends of the world on her behalf or at her word.

The sound of her high-heeled boots gave Marta the first indication of Marina’s presence in the lab, bringing the virologist’s head up from her microscope. “Hey, Marina.”

“Good morning, Marta.” Marina’s smile held a tired, almost frazzled edge. “What can I do for you? Vika said it was urgent?”

The scientist nodded and straightened from her scope. She gestured the older woman to the chairs at her desk. “Come sit with me, okay?”

Hot chocolate eyes sharpened as Marina moved towards the indicated chairs. “Marta? What’s the matter? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Marishka,” Marta soothed, warmth radiating in her own hazel eyes. “There were some unexpected results from your annual that I thought you might be interested in.”

Sitting down hard, the Russian asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is perfect,” the scientist promised as her smile deepened. She held out the results, offering them to the other woman. “It’s nothing that nine months won’t fix. Well, closer to seven at this point.”

Shock and elation blended into an interesting combination on Marina's face as she stared at the single page Marta handed her. “Are you saying what I think you're saying? But I thought you said. . .”

“I know what I said, and in my professional opinion, that's still the case. But apparently, you and Will are even more exceptional than previously thought.” Grinning, she squeezed the other woman's hands warmly. “Congratulations, Marina. . . you're going to be an amazing mother.”

Clearly stunned, Marina almost forgot to breathe as she looked between the page and Marta. Content to sit and watch her sister-in-law take in the information, the virologist smiled as she watched the shock begin to fade from Marina’s deep hot chocolate eyes and an all but giddy happiness take over. Those eyes squeezed closed for a moment, and tears glistened in them when they opened again. “Thank you.”

“I didn't do anything. I am just so happy for you both,” she insisted, the two women exchanging a warm embrace. 

After a moment, Marina pushed the other woman a step away. “Marta, I need your word that you won't tell anyone. Not even Aaron. With Misha gone . . .”

If Marta had ever needed proof that she was a valued member of the family, this show of trust, Marina’s belief in her word, gave her all the evidence she needed. She began nodding her agreement before Marina could even finish the question, “Will should be the first to know. Your secret is safe with me, Marishka . . . I won't tell a soul.”

“Thank you,” the older woman breathed, hugging the younger tightly once more. “I have to go . . . I have a meeting with Nick that I put off in order to come and see you. But Marta . . . thank you . . . I'm sure I don't have to tell you how much this means to me.”

Shaking her head with a wide grin, Marta agreed, “No . . . I think I have that pretty much figured out for myself.”

Grinning, the Russian spy squeezed once more before releasing her. “I'll see you tonight at dinner, Marta.”

“See you tonight, Marina. And congratulations again.”

It was only after the handler was gone that Marta remembered that she had given the Family Patriarch and his own wife similar news not even three months before. The two best friends were going to be pregnant together; Heaven help their husbands, because this was going to be hilarious. 

*******************

It didn't take long for the Grimm men to realize that their sister was hiding something from them. She'd been there when they were born, she raised them; they knew every quirk and tell and secret she tried to hide. And, as was typical of the two younger Grimms, both Clint and Aaron were on her like syrup on hotcakes. 

Clint hopped up onto the counter, reaching out to snatch one of the strawberries Marina was chopping up for dessert that night. The Russian cocked an eyebrow at him, her tone shifting to a light, but reprimanding drawl, “Since when is it okay to sit on my counters, Clinton Francis?”

Ha gave her a bright grin as he munched on his stolen strawberry. The smile didn’t dim as he chirped, “Whatcha doin'?”

Eyes the color of hot chocolate narrowed as her youngest boys gave her innocent looks worthy of choirboys. “Do I want to know why the two of you look like cats that caught canaries?”

Jason laughed as he came into the kitchen, sketching a kiss across her cheek fondly as he insisted, “Probably not. Sup Marishka?”

“Making dinner, Jay . . . something I would have thought Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. would have been able to suss out for themselves,” she teased, dodging the piece of chopped up celery he threw at her head. “Seriously, _dorogoy_ . . . get off my counters.”

Clint hopped down and took a place at the counter next to Aaron, the brothers all but pinning her in place with their eyes. Jason cocked an eyebrow at the action, though Marina herself only rolled her eyes and went back to fixing their dinners. After all, pierogi and beef stroganoff waited for no man. “You two wanna tell us what's processing in those things you call brains?” the technical specialist asked as his curiosity got the better of him. 

“She's hiding something,” Aaron announced, watching the half-second hesitation in Marina's hands as she stuffed the pierogis with her famous sour cream filling. “We want to know what it is.”

“And in what world is that any concern of yours?” the Russian asked calmly, turning away to hide her face and catching Jason's own curiosity.

“All right . . . what's going on?” The former detective leaned against the wall as he waited for an answer.

“Nothing. Why would you think that something's going on?”

“Aaron's right, Marishka . . . you're hiding something. What is it?”

Marta and Casey came into the kitchen at that exact moment, both women looking for their wayward Grimms. The scientist's mouth firmed as she caught the tail end of the question and she slid between the boys and their sister, planting herself there in a firm show of support. “Leave her alone.”

Aaron's gaze focused on his wife, seeing the forceful protectiveness in her usually shy features. “What's going on, Marta?”

“Nothing you need to know right now, Aaron Kenneth Grimm. You leave your sister alone.”

Clint’s frown grew fierce as he tried to insist on an answer. “But Marta . . .”

“Do not make me come up with some new medical test that I will find a way to convince myself the lot of you need . . . it'll be highly invasive and not at all comfortable. I'll even get Vincent and Scarlett to help me administer them; and you know they would.” A self-assured smirk curved her lips as she spoke.

“Nick won't go for that,” the youngest Grimm protested, his own smug conviction deepening the wicked twinkle in Marta’s expression. 

“You sure about that?” she taunted him. Her calculated impishness caused him to step back from her warily. “Don't think for a second that I'm above bribing Fury with a free pass on his next annual just so he'll back me up."

“That's not fair,” the family's bomb technician groaned as he gave his wife a soft glare. 

“Doesn't matter. Leave Marina alone . . . whatever it is, it's none of your business anyway,” Casey scolded, stepping forward to back up her best friend. “Now . . . out of the kitchen, the lot of you. We've got dinner to finish if you idiots want to be able to eat tonight.”

“But Casey!” Jason pouted, his expression prompting a chuckle and an unsympathetic shake of the head from his girlfriend. 

“Get out, Jason Leonard Grimm!” she ordered, one finger pointing towards the door in a clear warning. 

The computer genius of the family stuck his tongue out at her, only to yelp as he found himself forced to dodge the rolled up towel she snapped in his direction. He turned on his heel, bolting away with both of his younger brothers hot on his heels. As soon as the three men cleared the room, Marta turned to their sister and asked, “You okay?”

“The day I can't handle my boys, is the day I'm going to retire from S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she vowed, a weary smile on her face as her eyes tracked towards the clock on the top of the stove. “But thank you anyway. Individually, they're pretty nosy . . . together, they could weasel state secrets from Fort Knox itself.”

“I know you didn't want to tell Will over the phone, Marishka, but . . .” Here Marta trailed off, mouth twisting in a grimace as she watched the other woman consider the statement. 

Marina leaned against the counter with a heavy sigh as she ran one hand back through her curls. “I know . . . but I may not have a choice.”

Casey frowned as she looked between the two women, insightful eyes narrowing at the resignation on each of their faces. “Don't want to tell Will what over the phone?”

Glancing towards the door, Marina moved to rest one hand over her lower abdomen, cupping the flesh consciously. It took a moment for Casey to understand, but when comprehension hit, her eyes flashed wide and a bright grin spread across her lips. “Marina! That's great!”

“Thank you,” the Russian replied, accepting the giddy hug with her customary grace before stepping back and considering the time. “Well . . . there's nothing to say that I can't go to Misha, so that I can tell him face to face.”

“But Will's still in Russia.”

“Not anymore. They're on their way to Dubai via train. It's expected to arrive sometime tomorrow afternoon. At which point, they have an op at the Burj Khalifa.” She bit down hard on her lower lip and then hedged, “The last thing I want to do is get in the middle of that mess; the IMF is not the most streamlined of agencies. Things tend to explode . . . such as the Kremlin.”

“That was the IMF?” Marta blurted, eyes going wide in shock. 

“ **That** was why the IMF was disavowed . . . and why Misha got caught up in the mess. The IMF weren't directly responsible, but they were on site, so they were blamed. Misha said it was the result of a terrorist codenamed COBALT, but the President invoked Ghost Protocol anyway.” Huffing, she grumbled, “The Secretary of Defense just **had** to be there for a diplomatic meeting; and Misha and I just **had** to be with him as his consultant and his translator. Misha sent me on to the airport, while he went with SecDef to meet up with an asset in Moscow. The plane took off without them, and I didn't find out that he was on the run with the IMF team until he called my phone once we were in the air.”

“Is he okay?” both women demanded simultaneously.

“He's unharmed, though his suit seems to have been completely ruined. Gunmen ran their SUV into the river, and he had to swim.”

“Will hates to swim,” Casey remembered, discontent flickering in her eyes.

Marta’s lips thinned in an equally unhappy expression. “Water on his face freaks him out.”

“I know. He was pretty shaky when I spoke to him on the phone.” Marina took another look at the clock before musing, “Still . . . I'll bet I could take a Quinjet to the UAE, meet him at the airstrip after the op was over.”

“Who are you gonna get to fly it?” Marta interjected. “You can't take Clint . . . he'll want to know why you need to go.”

“I'll take Owen . . . we'll stop off in Toronto and pick up Sam. Both of them are capable pilots; not to mention, if I travel anywhere close to Russia alone, Misha is going to have my head.”

“How long would the 'jet take to get you to Dubai?”

“Depends on how long it would take to get everything up and ready to go,” Marina hedged with a haphazard shrug. She glanced at the food simmering on the stove and adjusted the temperature on her sauce before reaching for her cell phone. “Marta . . . can you please call Sam? Let him know that I need him ready to go to Dubai within the hour. I'll call when we're in the air with a more exact time, but he will probably need to clear at least four days with the SRU. If Sergeant Parker has any questions, he can call me for authorization.”

“Can do,” the virologist agreed, rushing off to call her nephew. 

Marina’s attention switched to Casey and she gestured toward the stove. “Dinner's almost ready, it just needs to simmer for another twenty minutes. I need to call Nick and get the 'op' approved for the three of us.”

“I'm not you, but I think I can manage,” the red-head promised, giving the older woman a heartfelt hug before waving her away. “Go on . . . go see your boy.”

“Thank you, Casey.”

“Welcome!” she cheered, watching with a grin as Marina all but dashed out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. The culinary-impaired former detective considered the stove, and the food thereon, and shook her head with a soft chuckle before she called out to the other room, “Aaron! I need your help!”

*************************

The stop in Toronto lasted just long enough for Sam to race up the stairs and into the plane. As soon as the blond had taken his seat beside his Ma, Owen called for a flight pattern and they were once again on their way. The two men remained surprisingly patient until the plane reached its cruising altitude and the Cleaner could set up the autopilot. With that done, they both turned to her. Eerie blue eyes held a speculative wonder as Sam inquired, “Why are we flying to Dubai, Ma?”

“Is there a reason I can't fly to Dubai?” She tossed the question back into his lap with an artless, almost flippant look. 

“Ma . . . you wouldn't fly to Dubai for no reason; I know you better than that. Especially since you had to leave Rene behind in order to do it. So what's going on?”

Tenderness flooded into her expression and she reached out to cup his cheek. “I have to tell your Dad first, Sammy-honey. But as soon as Misha knows . . . you'll know.”

That shrewd gaze narrowed for a moment as he surveyed her for any telltale signs of what might be behind her impulsive actions. After a moment, enlightenment dawned in his eyes and they flashed wide in startled understanding. A joyful grin spread across his face as he wrapped his arms tight around her shoulders. Bending to whisper in her ear, he insisted, “I'm so happy for you, Ma.”

“Thank you, baby.” Her return hug equaled his in its intensity. Turning to Owen, she asked, “Do I need to tell you, or have you figured it out?”

“Whether I've figured it out or not is irrelevant,” the older of the two men hitched up one shoulder and gave her a warm smile. “Will needs to know first, so I can wait to find out until after he knows.”

“Good to hear,” she murmured, fingers petting through her boy's hair as Sam settled down with his head in her lap. “How long until we land?”

“It's an 18 hour flight, nonstop, to Dubai,” Owen replied as he watched his best friend's son cuddle into his adoptive mother's lap, all but purring as she smoothed her fingers through his hair. “Which means you can afford to get some rest, Boss-lady.” Sensing the protest that was close on the heels of her hesitation, the Cleaner insisted, “I know you, Marina. You haven't slept since you and Will separated. And, considering the circumstances, you need all the rest you can get.”

Marina hesitated and glanced down at her son. Only to find him giving her the same adamant stare as Owen. “You need the rest more than I need to be petted." He did not sit up, but rather shifted in place so he could keep an eye on her. "Close your eyes, Ma; we've got the watch for awhile.”

The argument had been lost before she even got the chance to try and take a stand.  Marina capitulated with reluctance. “All right. Wake me if you need anything, okay?”

“Can do,” the blond agreed as he sat up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to pull her into him, a warm, familiar presence at her side.

Marina closed her eyes and allowed the presence of her son and her partner's oldest friend to lull her into a shallow state of sleep. It wouldn't be deep or particularly oblivious, but it would be restful which even she admitted she needed. She drifted away between one breath and the next, lost in a haze of happy, disjointed dreams.

One dream repeated, again and again – the joyous look on her beloved’s face when she shared the news of their miracle.

********************

Will Grimm’s surprise when he received a phone call on his burner phone could be forgiven. He had made a total of one call from the phone, following his unexpected swim in the Moskva River. A grand total of four people could call him on this phone – the two people seated in front of him, Ethan Hunt, and the love of his life. Considering Ethan’s MIA status, there was only one other person on the short list.

His thumb made a tender sweep over the display which read out his partner's number and he allowed himself a small smile. Jane Carter and Benji Dunn argued as they sat at the table, both blaming the other for the catastrophe at the Burj Khalifa, and how it resulted in Ethan taking off solo for the remainder of their mission. Regardless of whose fault it might be, it meant he would have some modicum of privacy as he turned his back on the room and took the call. “ _Da_?” he asked, keeping his voice low as he lifted his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and prayed for no fresh disasters.

There was a momentary pause, before a beloved voice filled his ear. “You sound tired, Mishka . . . when was the last time you slept?”

“It's been awhile, _zhemchuzhina_ ,” he chuckled, scrubbing hard at the back of his head with his fingernails. “ _Bozhe moi_ , it's good to hear your voice, _samaya malen'kaya_.”

“It's good to hear yours,” Marina agreed, tone warm and loving even through the cold plastic pressed against his ear. “Misha . . . I need to see you. Can we meet?”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Will protested, “I would love to meet you somewhere, Marishka, but the op didn't go as planned. We're all laying low, until we can figure out COBALT's next move.”

He heard a gentle hum slip down the line as she considered his words. “I'm about an hour out of Dubai, Mishka,” she appealed. “And I **must** speak with you . . . face to face . . . it's important.”

Concern burgeoned at the statement, causing him to straighten up. Reexamining her tone, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Chief Analyst started to demand answers. “Why are you . . . ?” 

Jane's phone rang from its place on the table then, interrupting his question. He watched in silence as the female operative picked up the cell and brought it to her ear. “This is Carter . . .” 

A couple heartbeats passed before Jane's eyes snapped up to meet Brandt's. She snapped her fingers at him and pointed towards their gear, as she confirmed, “Yes, Ethan . . . I understand. We'll meet you at the airstrip. Two hours . . . copy that.”

There came another pause, before she assented, “We'll see you there.” Even Will could hear the heavy click as the person on the other line left the call. She met Will’s eyes and barked, “That was Ethan. We're to meet him at the little airstrip out of town in two hours and to bring our gear.”

“I thought he said he was going it alone,” Benji protested, even as he began to gather all of his computers and electronics into his bags. 

“Does it matter? Apparently he needs us, so we go,” Jane snapped, eyes snagging just then on Brandt's cell phone. “What's with the phone? Indulging in a little phone sex before we go?”

Brilliant blue eyes went colorless and cold so fast, the woman visibly recoiled. To his credit, though, Brandt said nothing, only fixing Carter with a harsh glare as he resumed his conversation with his partner. “I'll meet you at the airstrip in two hours. Is that okay?”

Marina's tone was warm and all but dripping with adoration as she purred, “More than okay.”

A twist of grim humor prompted his next question. “You brought protection?” he asked, well aware of how that sounded in the current context, unforgivingly amused when Jane's eyes flashed wide in shock. He felt the smirk trying to build on his face, but suppressed it in order to keep her guessing.

Meanwhile Marina huffed at him, no doubt cursing his overprotective need to keep her safe at all times. “I brought Sam and Owen. They'll keep an eye on me. We'll meet you there.”

“Good,” he acknowledged, his manner brusque and acutely aware of Jane's eyes straining in an attempt to weasel answers out of him. A quick mental debate led to his typical, “Brandt out.”

A gentle snort came through the phone, even as his partner replied with a crisp, “Copy that. Petrovka out.”

Stowing the phone in his back pocket, he grabbed up the meager bag of borrowed belongings and hauled it over his shoulder. He strode towards the door, but paused next to Jane to issue her a warning in a vicious hiss. “Mind your own business, Carter. I’ll let you figure out what I'll do if you don't.”

The woman could only gawk after him as he left the room, the two remaining agents exchanging a shocked look between them. In spite of Ethan's demonstration of Brandt's talents, neither of them had truly considered the analyst to be a threat. Apparently, they had been very wrong in that assumption and it would be one mistake they didn't make again. 

********************

The three agents strode along the airstrip, though only two of them were looking around for Ethan's proposed rendezvous. The analyst, on the other hand, searched for a parked Quinjet . . . and the woman who waited with it.

About then, Benji pointed, tone curious as he inquired, “Who the bloody hell is that?”

Will followed the line of his finger and grinned at the sight of the petite woman coming toward them on the tarmac. Marina wore a pretty rose-colored sundress with an embroidered scarf covering her trademark curls. She looked as out of place on this tarmac as a flower in the Sahara – and even more welcome. He recognized the black duffel she carried as the emergency bag he kept stored in the bottom of their closet. Dropping his current bag at Benji's feet, he all but ran to meet her halfway.

Hot chocolate eyes glowed up at him, as she opened her arms and let him sweep her off her feet. “Mishka,” she breathed, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “ _Slava Bogu_.”

Lifting one hand to thread into her hair, he tilted her head back and pressed a fervent kiss to her lips. Her hands came up to tangle in his hair, letting him plunder at his will. The two took what comfort they could from each other's embrace in a long private moment as they ignored the rest of the world.

The agent drew back, conscious of eyes drilling into the back of his head. He took a moment to breathe the same air before asking in a quiet voice, “Why are you here, _samaya malen'kaya_?”

At the question, Marina's whole face broke into such joy Will almost stepped back from the force of it. She reached up and cupped his cheek as she gazed into his familiar features. With the other hand, she linked her fingers with his own and drew them to her body. Forcing the hand flat against the swell of her stomach, just under her belly button, she whispered, “I can't even tell you how much I love this baby.”

Those color changing eyes blinked, swimming in shock, before they blazed with the bluest hue she could ever remember seeing. Will lifted his other hand to rest beside the first, framing the miniscule bump that housed their unborn child. “Are you serious? You're pregnant?” he breathed, his tone and features blending shock, awe, and adoration.

Her smile grew teary eyed as she nodded, watching as her typically stoic lover dropped to his knees, careless of the ground beneath them or the eyes around them. One hand came up to thread through his blond hair as he leaned forward to press a reverent kiss to the swell of her abdomen. “Hello, _kroshka_. I'm your papa. And I can't wait to meet you.”

Marina became aware of the speculation being shared between the two IMF agents who had arrived with Will and the infamous agent she knew only by reputation. She could care less to be perfectly frank. Elation suffused every fiber of her being, leaving no room for their opinions. Even still, she knew the instant they said something derogatory about her, because her partner went as stiff as a board. She stroked her fingers over his nape with a quiet sigh as he shot a vicious glare over his shoulder. “It doesn't matter, Misha. Let them say what they want. This is ours; they can't touch this. . . we won't let them.”

He pressed another kiss to her abdomen, before he forced himself to his feet with a telling reluctance. Cupping her cheeks in his palms, he captured her lips with his. “ _Ya lyublyu tebya, zhemchuzhina_.”

“ _Vsegda_ ,” she gave him a solemn vow. “I know you can't leave this assignment, Misha. It's not who you are. But I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” he agreed, smoothing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

“Come home . . . in as few pieces as possible. I . . .” Here she paused, pressing his hand to her body again, “. . . **we** need you.”

“No matter what happens, Marishka,” he promised, eyes dark with the seriousness of his intention. “I am coming home to you. Not even a nuclear holocaust could keep me away.”

She lifted one eyebrow and teased, “Seeing as COBALT would like to start one, though, can I request that you stop him?”

“Copy that,” he laughed, a rare lightness in his features. That lightness dimmed a bit, shadowed as a call of his name carried across the airstrip. He lifted a hand in recognition of the call, but his attention never left his partner. “I have to go.”

Her smile was equal parts worried and proud. “I know.” Looping her arms around his shoulders, she held him close and insisted, “Come home soon.”

“As soon as I can, I promise.”

She offered him a teasing grin. “All right, handsome . . . go save the world.”

Kissing her once again, he laughed in agreement, “Yes ma'am.”

He slung the duffel over his shoulder and then straightened up into her arms, the two exchanging another desperate embrace. Marina could feel the way he had to force himself to let go even as he pulled back, each small touch lingering before he raced towards the others on his temporary team. Sam appeared at her right side with Owen a step behind on her left, before Will took more than three steps away. Her son's arm curled, warm and familiar, around her shoulders as they watched the analyst pause at the top of the stairs and turn to look at them. One hand lifted in a wave, both partner and son waving back before he disappeared into the plane. The three stood where she'd been left, watching the plane cruise down the runway and take off into the sky.

Sam brushed a warm kiss over his adoptive mother’s cheek. “Come on, Ma. Let's go find a hotel . . . Dad'll call as soon as the op is done.”

Nodding in quiet agreement, Marina let the two men pull her away. At this point, it was a waiting game. 

********************

Brian had just entered the family home, intent on the kitchen and the _yablak sharlotka_ waiting for him, when his phone rang. “Yo!”

“Bri?” Tears infused his sister’s voice. 

“Marina?” He stopped in mid-step, his attention devoted to the shaky voice in his ear. “You okay?”

The pause lasted mere seconds, but long enough to stretch his nerves. “Misha got hurt on assignment,” she told him. “We’re in Mumbai and I need you, your father, and the boys here.”

Putting one hand over the receiver, the second eldest Grimm gave a sharp whistle. “Guys, fall in! Dad! You, too!” The pounding of feet on stairs rang through the house as he turned his focus back to the phone. Aaron and Hansel came out of the kitchen, concern etching across both of their faces. He ignored them as he demanded, “How bad is it?”

“Bruises, busted ribs, minor damage to his kidneys . . . the worst of it is the concussion; it’s causing severe sensitivity to light and loud sounds.”

Hard eyes shot to Aaron as he pulled the phone away from his mouth. “Call your wife. We’ll need her with us.”

The family patriarch frowned at him. “What is happening, _Arger_?”

“Will got hurt with the IMF.”

 **That** required no further explanation and Aaron reached into his back pocket for his cell phone. Brian returned the phone to his ear. “All right, Marina, we're on our way.” He ran a hand over his face. “Do we need to stop in Toronto for Sammy?”

“No, Sam is with us. So is Owen. Just bring Marta and get here as fast as you can. And do not forget Rene; he can't be at the house alone.”

“We’ll swing by the high school and grab Rene,” he agreed, already plotting the path in his head. “And Aaron is calling Marta. Just . . . take care of him for us.”

“I always do,” she reminded him in a fond tone. “I gotta go, Bri. We’ll see you soon.”

“Count on it,” the agent promised, before Marina rang off. Brian frowned, considering the call for a moment. Something bugged him about it. Then he shook his head; they needed to get moving – he could pin down whatever it was while they were in the air. “Aaron? Tell Marta we’ll pick her up on the way to the airstrip. Dad, you better give Maria a head’s up.”

His little brother gave him a thumbs-up as he continued murmuring into his phone. Clint met them at the foot of the stairs, his go-bag in one hand and Aaron’s in the other. Aaron took his own and the men strode out of the house. Brian turned the key in the door and raced towards his SUV. With any luck, and Clint's madcap skills at the stick, they'd be in Mumbai within twelve hours. Hopefully Will and Marina would be fine with just Owen and Sam for at least that long.

Brian's SUV pulled up in front of Medical to the sight of both Marta and Vincent waiting outside, her pacing with a phone to her ear and him leaning against the wall with two bags at his feet. As the car rolled to a stop, the two doctors scrambled into the vehicle. Marta remained focused on her call, leaving the doctor to explain his presence. “Sam is my partner . . . and my best friend. I’m gonna be there for him.”

Marta then glanced up long enough to chime in with her support. “And it’s Will. Like hell am I trusting some strange Indian doctor with Will.”

“No argument here, Doc,” Aaron agreed, threading his fingers through her hair as she settled beside him.

She didn’t notice. “Owen, I need a full medical status,” she commanded, most of her attention on getting the information she wanted. “On both of them.”

Brian almost slammed on the brakes. The clarification gained the full attention of the brothers and their father, though Marta’s sudden fierce glare deterred them enough that no one dared to interrupt. Whatever answer Owen gave her did not appear to be the one she wanted; not if the scowl on her face could be taken as an indication of her mood. “Keep her calm,” the doctor ordered, “and under no circumstances are you to excessively worry Sam.” She paused, listening to the faraway Cleaner. Her voice, direct and unequivocal already, took on a sharp snap. “They’re his parents, Owen! He’s going to worry.” Another pause. “Good,” she gave an approving nod even if the man she meant it for could not see it. “Yes, we’re on our way.”

Hansel and his sons could feel their own anxiety ratchet up yet another notch at this second expression of concern by the virologist over both members of the family’s Power Couple. A quick exchange of glances and Hansel’s raised eyebrow led to Aaron broaching the subject as his wife hung up the phone. “Doc…Marta, what is going on?”

He watched her bite her lip lightly, clearly at odds with herself. Finally, she shook her head, insisting, “I gave Marina my word, Aaron. I can't tell you. I'm sorry.”

“At least tell me if she’s okay?”

“She's fine. In fact, I'd argue that she’s perfect. It's just that that could change in a second flat. Please . . . don't make me break my promise to your sister, Aaron,” Marta pleaded. “Please?”

His lips formed an unhappy line, but he allowed her a reprieve in a single, resigned nod. “Okay. I won't ask again.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, body all but collapsing in relief as she leaned into her husband. “If anything changes, I'll tell you what I can.”

**********************

Sam and Owen waited at the entrance to the Medical center when the family finally arrived. Marta and Vincent hit the ground running as they had conferred over the best course of action while in-flight. As a result Vincent moved forward, headed straight for Sam. He grabbed his best friend in a tight embrace and said nothing in response to Sam's own desperate grip. The doctor held on until the blond let go when Rene demanded attention. With Sam occupied by his little brother, Vincent turned to look at Owen. “How's the Colonel? Any change?”

“No. They have him sedated for the moment. Boss is more worried about Marina then he is about himself right now,” the Cleaner lamented, gesturing for the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor to follow him into the building.

“Where is Marina?” Marta asked as she hurried to keep up with the two men. 

“Boss-lady finally fell asleep in the chair in the Boss' room,” he replied, slowing slightly to allow her to catch up. 

“Vincent is going to handle Will. I'm going to take over Marina.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Owen approved. “Come on; I'll take you to them.” 

Marta noted the dimness of the light in the room right off the bat as she stepped through the door. Her second impression consisted of Marina curled up asleep in the chair next to Will's bed, her hand wrapped around his. Marta moved into the room, a gentle smile on her lips, and crouched at Marina's side. One hand reached out to give the older woman’s shoulder a light shake, jolting her to wakefulness in a second flat.

Vincent moved to take the chart from its place at the end of the bed, flipping through it with a sure confidence. His eyes flashed gold as he winced over the list of pain medications and the notations attached to them. “Well, first things first. We've got to get him off the percocet. That's just going to exacerbate the pain.” He gave a heavy sigh before moving over to crouch beside Marina. “I'll take good care of him, Marina, I promise.”

“I know,” the woman agreed with a small smile as her hand moved to cup his cheek. “Thank you Vincent.”

“I'm gonna go find the doctor in charge of Will's care and get some tramadol on-board,” Vincent announced to his colleague as he pushed himself to his feet. “You got this?”

“I’m good.” Marta watched the man leave the room before turning to Marina. “I want vitals, Marishka.” She grabbed for her stethoscope.

“I'm okay, Marta, honest.” 

“Humor me, please,” the scientist begged, smiling as the older woman gave a small nod, capitulating without further argument. “Thank you.”

“The boys give you any trouble?” the Russian inquired, cocking an eyebrow at the worried collection of Grimm men she could see crowding in the hallway. Her lips twitched at Marta’s imperious stare and she supplied her arm for the blood pressure cuff. 

“Surprisingly, no. Apparently I am perfecting the Marina Petrovka ‘Glare of Doom’,” the virologist snarked with a roll of her eyes and a sneaky grin.

That earned a rare bout of giggles. “Good on you, _malyutka_.”

A soft groan rose from the bed then and drew the instantaneous attention of the family. Marina laid a tender hand on Will's exposed forearm and spoke in a soft, soothing voice, “It’s okay, Mishka. I'm here. Rest.”

A hiss seemed to drag through his clenched teeth as he struggled to pull away from the touch with a weak protest, “Hurts . . . sensitive.” Marina's hand blurred as she moved, horror reflecting in her eyes at the knowledge that she'd hurt him. 

“I know. Vincent's doing something about that right now. He's gonna stop the percocet and get you on some tramadol instead,” Marta promised in a whisper, reluctant to touch him while he still suffered from the effects of the painkiller.

“Bless him for a saint,” he breathed, eyes slipping closed again. “Marishka?”

“I'm all right, _moy vozlyublenny_ ,” the Russian promised, her fingers trailing in a phantom caress over his forehead. “Sam’s been taking good care of me and Marta is here now too.” 

His reply was slurred and incoherent as he swore, “Good. Love you.”

“ _Te adoro_ ,” she vowed, watching him drift away again. She turned anxious eyes towards Marta, this doctor the family trusted with so much, “He's been doing that a lot.”

Vincent caught her words as he strode back through the door, a small vial and syringe in his hands. “Have his knowledge checks been okay?” 

“So far so good,” Marina agreed with a shrug, watching as the S.H.I.E.L.D. physician’s hands moved with a deft expertise to administer the preferred pain medication via the IV. 

“Then don't worry about it. It's fairly common with the degree of severity for a concussion like Will's.” Squeezing Marina's shoulder, he promised, “As soon as the swelling in his brain goes down, we can take him home. He'll be much more comfortable in his own bed.”

Clint chose that moment to come bounding all the way into the room, the rest of the family hot on his heels. “All right. I can't wait anymore. What's going on? Why are you being so weird, Marina? And why is Marta so worried about you?” Biting his lip, he hedged, “Did something come up during your annual?”

“You could say that,” Marina agreed, with a fond smile for her youngest.

Aaron's face went blank, though Marina and Marta could both read the stark terror in those blue eyes as he watched the two women. “Are you okay, _sestra_?”

Marina glanced over at her partner, wanting a contribution from him into the family discussion. She reached out to take her drowsy lover’s hand. Will’s eyes opened in mere slits, but it was still his voice that filled the room. “ _Da_. Marina is just fine, Kenny.”

“Then why is Marta so worried?” Jason interjected irritably, his arms folded over his chest and a frown on his lips. “Why the hell won't you just tell us what's going on?! Are you sick or something?!”

The petulant tone made Marina roll her eyes as she snapped, “For heaven’s sake, Jay, I'm not dying! I'm pregnant.”

Enjolras Rene bolted into his adopted mother's arms, almost knocking the chair over as he tried to fit into the seat beside her. The woman chuckled and squirmed over enough to make room for him even as she felt her heart break more than a little at his obvious desperation. “You will always be my _chado_ , Rene,” she promised in a solemn whisper meant for him alone. She pressed a warm kiss to his forehead. “Nothing will ever change that, I promise.”

The twelve year old gave a relieved nod as he cuddled a little bit further into her body. As for the rest of her boys, the shock on their faces was nearly comical, thereby earning a small grin from their older brother at the stunned response. His voice was nearly a wheeze as he teased, “Close your mouth, Clinton Francis; you'll catch flies.”

The admonition jolted the youngest Grimm from his shock, and he all but leaped at his sister, hugging her tightly around his nephew’s body. “That is so awesome! I'm gonna be an uncle!”

“Yes, you are,” the Russian chuckled as she returned the warm embrace. “Which does not give you permission to teach them how to attack people from the air vents.”

“Why not? That's the best part of being an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” he protested with a pout, dropping into the other chair to sulk. 

“You'll just have to teach them some other reckless feats of mayhem, Clint,” Will teased, eyes drooping slightly. “I'm sure you'll think of something.”

Hansel barely managed to dodge his pregnant wife's lunge, the woman throwing her arms around her best friend. Of everyone, Maria Hill-Kuhn was probably the only one who truly understood how devastated Marina had been after learning that she would likely not be able to conceive – Will and Marta notwithstanding. “Marishka, I am so excited for you!” Grinning, she couldn't resist teasing their lovers, “And we’re gonna be pregnant together! Think of all the things we can torture the men with!”

Will gave an exaggerated groan at the announcement. “This is going to be the worst nine months of our lives, Dad,” he joked as his gaze tracked to the older man.

“Undeniably,” Hansel concurred with a grin, “. . . but at least we will have each other, _mein Adler_.”

Jason's tone turned mocking as he laughed, “And alcohol . . . lots and lots of alcohol.”

A unanimous response rang out as the entire room agreed, “Amen to that!”

The Grimm family had been a miracle in Marina's life since their very beginning, ergo, she should not have been surprised at the newest miracle to add to her brood. Though Marina might have chosen a different way to reveal it to them, all things being equal, she couldn’t be too upset. All of her boys were safe, happy and in one place – no matter what, **that** made today . . . perfect.

********************

Eight weeks later, the Grimms watched from a few tables away as their brother sat with the surviving members of the IMF team responsible for taking out Kurt Hendricks aka COBALT. Life for William Michael Grimm would never really be the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations: 
> 
> (R) dorogoy - darling (Marina's nickname for Clint)  
> (R) Da/net - yes/no  
> (R) zhemchuzhina - pearl (one of Will's less common nicknames for Marina)  
> (R) Bozhe moi - Oh my God  
> (R) samaya malen'kaya - my little one (Will's most common nickname for Marina)  
> (R) Slava Bogu - Thank God  
> (R) kroshka -baby (a petname for an infant or toddler)  
> (R) Ya lyublyu tebya - I love you  
> (R) Vsegda - always  
> (R) yablak sharlotka - Russian apple cake  
> (G) Arger - Anger (Hansel's nickname for his son, Brian)  
> (R) malyutka - girlie (petname for a girl-child)  
> (R) moy vozlyublenny - my love  
> (Latin) Te adoro - I adore you  
> (R) sestra - sister  
> (R) chado - child  
> (G) mein Adler - my Eagle (Hansel's nickname for his son, Will)


End file.
